Spirit paints,

Drawing shapes of flowing rivers,

Mountain gorges lined with snow and eagles high,

Cradled near the edge of the sky.


Creating landscapes in my vision;

Seasons defining the flow that pulls me forward into the sumac running wild in the ditches,

The bursts of goldenrod and drying grasses,

Rusting leaves of orange and red captivate my imagination,

And lowers me towards the ground,

The clay,

The birth,

Where I am from.

There is a reason Your beauty reaches deep within,

And touches the root.

One root,

That laces and twines the branches of the Ash tree

To the stories of our existence.

One root,

That explains the grace and mercy that surrounds us

And binds us together.

One root,

That connects our soul to the harmony of the earth

And the breath of the eagle.

Creation and spirit thrusts upon me the cool winds of fall,

For a moment, I am pressed into the very arms of what I know to be love and light.

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